A simple Halloween tradition turns into more than Vivian or Cala anticipated. They thought their wild midnight romp was a one time thing, but the deep longing for each other that remains says otherwise. Fey magic is ready to bind them together forever, assuming they can find each other again.

NOTE: During October 2013, use the discount code GreatPumpkin2013 when you shop at Changeling Press in this year's Pumpkin Patch and take 10% off your entire order and be entered to win books.

EXCERPT
"If you wanted to be head of House Hallowed Eve, you shouldn't have donned the Autumn mantle. That was your choice. The duties you now shirk to search for this unknown girl are not a choice."

"She isn't unknown." Cala knew so much about her he thought he would drown in the knowledge. The sound of her passion, the way her body tensed as she neared the peak of her pleasure, the gentle brush of her lips as she laid them against his skin, the rippling texture of her silky braids running through his fingers, the --

"Tell me her name."

"What?" He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard his father's words correctly.

"Her name, Cala. Tell it to me. If you know so much about her, tell me her name."

Cala gritted his teeth. "You know I cannot."

"Of course not, which is why you are in this state." Mori gestured to Cala's obvious arousal. "This as well is the fault of your rash behavior. I should have never allowed you to become head of Autumn Clan. You are too young, too immature."

"I'm three hundred and sixteen years old. I'm not a child --"

"Her name?"

They would go round and round with this conversation if Cala allowed it. He didn't have time for this. Every second that ticked by lessened his power. Autumn was ending. He had until the winter solstice to find her. As the head of a season clan, he could only interact with the humans during his season. That was the agreement all those of the four season clans had made.

He shook his head as desperation clawed up from the dark place he'd shoved it, threatening to make him give up. "Had I let the magic come --"

"Instead of yourself."

Cala glared at his father's amused expression. "I thought the binding magic was stronger than any other. Why did it fail with her? Is it because she was not truly my one?"

"I'm sure she is. You said you felt the magic start. That is your proof. There exist past accounts of those whose lust and craving for fulfillment overrode the magical binding. It would seem that is what happened to you."

That was exactly what had happened. Cala remembered feeling an urging, like someone pulling on the reins of horse to slow it. He hadn't wanted slow at the time. He and his would-be mate had thundered on to climax after climax, wanting satisfaction more than the binding magic. As a result, they were lost to each other.

His ears drooped more. And there it was. He'd lost her. Billions of humans on the planet, millions in the country where she lived -- without her name, he would never find her.

He shouldn't have ignored the urge to take her, spirit her away to his home where the binding magic could have taken hold after they had exhausted themselves. They would have had time. Only the sounds of her friends searching had stopped him. It had never stopped any of his predecessors.

Released October 20, 2013STATION TO STATIONcontemporary gay romanceavailable at Amber Allurehttp://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/StationToStation.htmlScott Thomas welcomes the assignment when he’s is tagged to oversee the new commuter rail line from Easton to Marionville, a high profile project that demands expertise. His love of trains makes him a natural for the job. When a friend invites him on a Mystery Train Dinner Adventure, Scott’s onboard for an evening of fun. Scott gets more than he ever dreamed about when he meets his ideal tall, dark haired stranger on the train.Dakota Reece views the new commuter rail as the opening he’s needed for him and his brother to build their own firm and future. Planning a start-up company while working on the commuter rail project is hard work and Dakota takes an evening off to relax on the Mystery Train. When the train stops to serve dinner, Dakota is boldly cruised by a fellow passenger. He has to get to know this smart, sexy man and asks Scott to join him for a drink. Scott and Dakota hit it off and a quiet cup of coffee leads to unexpected possibilities - and consequences. Their budding relationship could cause a multi-million dollar conflict of interest charge. When Dakota makes a sudden decision to advance his timeline, Scott will do whatever is necessary to keep them together, on track, and avoiding derailment. INTRO:I pulled him off the rail and slipped my free hand around his waist. Raw awareness crackled between us, man to man, laden with male pheromones and a shared knowledge we innately knew how to make the other moan with pleasure. I wanted to be sure and kissing him was the most expedient way to strike a spark - or not. My guess about his height had been right on and he was just a tick shorter than me. It made kissing him easy. I pressed my lips to his, just a quick, soft touch that turned clingy when neither of us seemed to want to back off. He met me with an open eagerness that threatened to buckle my knees and we never parted our lips. My body responded and the sudden aching pooling of blood in my groin convinced me I needed to pull away before I got completely stupid with this guy in plain view of anyone who walked out the door. Okay so I kissed him. Okay so we’d go have a drink and get to know each other. That didn’t mean I would fuck him tonight. No taste of sweet titillation in that. Dakota smiled at me. “That was nice. If you won’t have a drink with me, I’ll probably cry myself to sleep.”“For the record, I don’t buy that line for a moment…”EXCERPTThe back room beckoned and only he and I would know.“I’m afraid so, but look on the bright side. We’re getting to know each other.”Dakota leaned back and grinned. “Ah, courtship. It’s a fine concept but I don’t care for the practical applications.”I didn’t either. We’d hit it off, and our one kiss had sparked some serious carnal curiosity between us. Moving forward on a personal level hinged on the sex being good. It was shallow, but true. I met his gaze and watched his eyes go dark. He fixed me with the intense stare of a gay man on the prowl. We’d wait but only because our dicks hadn’t overtaken our brains yet. I licked my lips and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “So are you still brave enough for dinner tomorrow night?”“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, Scott.”We exchanged cell phone numbers and discussed restaurants and agreed to meet at a little Italian place out toward Easton. We might be observed, but having dinner together wasn’t the same as sleeping together. Dakota finished his coffee and pushed the mug away. “I guess we should call it a night, huh?”“It is past midnight.”He reached for my hand again. “We’re having dinner together tonight.”“Technically, yes.” I stared into his eyes as I lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles. His lips parted. “My room is two blocks from here, Scott. Whataya say?”My resolve to keep stupidity at bay wavered. Hell, it crumbled and I was about to tread over the broken pieces of it on my way out the door to his place. The letters awarding the bids were already in sealed envelopes in a locked drawer in the mayor’s office. How much flak could there be if someone found out Dakota and I had a little tryst? I nodded and saw victory flash in his eyes. I downed the last of my lukewarm coffee and pushed back from the table. “Let’s go.”Dakota rose in an easy, unhurried motion and dropped a five-dollar bill on the table for a tip. “I like a man full of surprises.”I’m not sure I did when I was that man. I motioned at the exit. “Lead on.”Instead of heading out, he stepped in front of me and cupped the back of my neck. His mouth covered mine and my skin flashed hot. I licked his lips and they opened to me. His silky tongue slid over mine and my cock swelled to an aching fullness in three throbbing heartbeats. My hands went to his hips and I pulled him tight against me to let him feel how hard I was for him, and to know if he was hard for me. His lips bowed under mine as he ended the kiss and rested his forehead to mine. “That’s for you.”STATION TO STATIONISBN-13: 978-1-61124-503-5contemporary gay romanceavailable at Amber Allurehttp://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/StationToStation.htmlThis title is part of The Men of Marionville series.Learn more at http://www.kckendricks.com/MarionvilleSeries.htmlAlso Available:KENTUCKY 98 PROOFContemporary gay romance#1 Bestseller at Amber Allure, August 2013Confirmed Bestseller at All Romance eBooks, September 2013available now at http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/Kentucky98Proof.htmlKC Kendrickswebsite at: http://www.kckendricks.comblog "Between the Keys": http://www.kckendricks.blogspot.comTwitter: http://www.twitter.com/kckendricksmailing list at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/betweenthekeysPinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kckendricksFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/people/KCKendricks

Paul knew Nico was special the
moment they exchanged that first glance at Termini station in Rome late one hot
summer afternoon. And when it was announced their train had been cancelled and
travel suspended until further notice, they explored their feelings over dinner
and spent one perfect night of passion in a nearby hotel.

Early next morning, when Nico found
a flight cancellation and took off, all Paul knew about him was his first name.

Two years later, Paul hasn’t
forgotten Nico, and now when they meet again at another train station in
London, the chemistry is still there. Nico believes Fate brought them together,
and is ready to close his eyes and jump into a relationship. Paul, however,
believes they need to be sensible, to first check the water and then take it
one step at a time. Which man’s strategy will prevail?

NOTE: This story is part of the London Calling series. (This
title is also part of the ALL ABOARD AmberPax Collection.)

...As I put down the roll and
reached for the sugar to add to my coffee, I heard someone say my name. I
didn’t recognize the voice, and Paul was a common enough name. I looked up
anyway—then stared. “Nico?”

My stomach did a weird backflip, and
I sucked in a quick gulp of air.

He dropped into the chair across
from me, looking as surprised as I was myself.

“I’m imagining this, right?”

“If you are, then so am I.” What
started as a smile turned to laughter and he reached across the table and
grasped my hand. “My God! It really is you. This is crazy. I just came back
from High Wycombe, and I thought I saw you getting off the same train.”

“You’re kidding?” I continued to
stare at him, trying to collect my scattered wits and work my way through the
shock. The hardest part was convincing myself this was real. That I wasn’t
dreaming, hallucinating, or I hadn’t somehow got caught up in a bad case of
wishful thinking. “I was on that train, too. In fact, I thought I saw you while
I was waiting on the platform in Wycombe station. Then you disappeared, so I
figured—”

“You were seeing things?” He smiled
and shook his head. “I wondered that myself when I got off the train just now.
I had to make sure, so I followed you over here, but then…

“Then what?”

His eyes seemed a little misty and
he squeezed my hand, hard. “I waited outside for a few minutes. It looked so
much like you. I was sure but I wasn’t sure, if you know what I mean. I didn’t
want to make an idiot of myself. It’s been two years since we met at Termini and
we were only together for a very short time.”

I smiled. “I know. And most of it we
spent in the dark.”

A faint blush moved up his neck and
into his face, and I wondered if he still had the white tan line an inch or so
below his hips.

“That’s true. God! I hated leaving
you, Paul. But I swear, I had no choice. I had to grab that flight
cancellation. It was the only way I could get to Brussels in time. My brother
was getting married and I was his best man. He’d have killed me if I hadn’t
shown up.”

“So what made you come in here and
check?”

He relaxed his grip on my hand, then
tightened it again. “I needed to know. I figured if I made a mistake, so what?”

He hesitated, looking unsure or
embarrassed, I didn’t know quite which. Maybe a little of both.

He tried for a smile that didn’t
quite happen. “You’ll probably think I’m a wacko or I need to get myself a
life. The truth is I’ve never been able to get you out of my mind. Crazy as it
might sound, I’ve never stopped hoping that one day this would happen. If I’d
known your last name, where you lived or worked, some significant small detail
to go on, I’d have found you by now.”

Emotion blocked
my throat and I swallowed hard. “If we’d been thinking we’d have exchanged
phone numbers or something. We didn’t, but that’s okay. I haven’t forgotten
you, either,” I said quietly. I drank in the handsome face, the eyes that were
the same dark brown as mine, and the trace of five o’clock shadow that made him
look even sexier than I remembered. I wanted so much to touch his face, to hold
him and to kiss him, and… “Some people you forget five minutes after you meet
them and some you do never do. No matter how hard you try, they’re always there
at the edge of your mind...”

Spec Op “Bull” Ford is as big as his
nickname. His team, the civilians he protects, whether they know it or not, all
depend on him. But beneath his stony exterior beats the heart of a caring
man—unless he’s crossed.

Between her job as professional harpist and
fending off an ex-boyfriend who won’t take the hint, Marly feels like a circus
juggler. She doesn’t need some oversized, overzealous security guard accusing
her of being a terrorist—as if a five-foot-nothing woman in a ball gown could
threaten anyone.

Though when the real terrorists strike,
she’s more than grateful to have Bull at her side…or on top, which certainly
makes what could be her last breaths memorable.

But after Bull takes the brunt of the
explosion, Marly is left with feelings for a man who doesn’t remember who she
is. And by the time the red-hot memories come flooding back, the trail to her
heart may have gone cold.

Warning: Contains explosive sexual
encounters—literally!

EXCERPT (G)

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” The
deep voice vibrated through her back and into her. He pulled them both to the
wall and flipped on the lights with one elbow. A small, high window interrupted
one wall. Reflected in its glass she saw the hulk she’d noticed before.

He spun her around and the hand over her
mouth moved and grabbed her chin. She stared up into blue eyes narrowed in
anger. He was big. She’d dated men who were six feet tall before, her ex John
being one of them. Marly had found tall guys tended to like petite women, she
didn’t know why. Maybe it made them feel even bigger. Who knew? But this guy—he
was well over six feet tall. He was broad too, and from the feel of him it
wasn’t fat. He was solid muscle. If he didn’t seem to want to crush her with
his bare hands, she’d say he was attractive. She was having trouble getting
past the murderous expression though. It kind of took away from her admiration
of his overall physical appearance.

“I asked you a question.” He shook her, his
hands clamped tightly around her upper arms.

“I came to get my bag.” What the hell was
going on? Did he think she’d come to assassinate whomever he was protecting? It
was easy enough to prove she hadn’t. There was nothing more dangerous in her
bag than her tuning key. She could maybe jab the point of that in somebody’s
eye, but that’s about it.

His gaze moved to her bag on the floor.
“Really. Why don’t we see what you’ve got in there?”

He tucked her under one arm and half
dragged, half carried her toward the bag. Her feet hardly touched the floor
along the way. With his one free hand, he dumped the contents of the bag onto
the canvas harp cover.

She hissed as she watched her brand new
forty-dollar electronic tuner spill out onto the floor. “Careful.”

His eyes opened wide and he drew in a sharp
breath of his own. “I bet you want me to be careful. Shit. Matt, I think I’ve
found the detonator.”

“Matt?” What the hell was he talking about?
Marly shook her head. “My name’s not Matt.”

There was a good chance she was being held
in a closet by a madman, and all she could think about was if her new tuner was
broken. When she got out of this mess, she was seriously going to reevaluate
her priorities. She reached for the device to make sure it was all right, but
he didn’t let her even get close to it. The brute grabbed her wrist hard enough
he would probably leave a bruise.

Her heart beat faster. She was in real
danger here. But the bruiser had made one mistake. He’d uncovered her mouth.
She intended on taking full advantage of that. She pulled in a lungful of air
and got ready to scream.

He slapped a hand over her mouth, harder
than he had the first time. He was so big he covered the entire lower half of
her face with one hand. He squeezed her mid-section with his other arm until
all the air she had taken in came out of her nose and mouth in a whoosh between
his fingers.

“I don’t like screaming. Don’t try that
again.” The growl in his voice sent her pulse speeding.

Always nice to know your killer’s
preferences. She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t offend him if she screamed while
he murdered her. Marly became aware of his impressively large appendage
pressing into her lower back. Maybe murder wasn’t what he had in mind.

She made a sound in her throat and pulled
her pelvis as far away from him as she could get.

He chuckled, not an encouraging sound.
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. It’s from the adrenaline. I get a hard-on
when I kill people too…or even when I diffuse bombs.”

He said the last word with too much
emphasis. She was going to end up blown to bits by this crazy man who got
sexually excited by killing people, and he was probably going to rape her
first.

Black spots appeared on the edge of her
vision. Her last thought was it was better to be unconscious for whatever was
about to happen.

A few weeks ago, when I started
self-publishing my Paranormal Erotic Shorts, I announced that a
number of these titles would be available in an upcoming anthology
called Blood Addict.

Well, Blood Addict is no longer
upcoming. It has come. It's here. And it's got some seriously dark
content... and some romance... and some extreme bondage... and... and...
and...

Spanning the ages from medieval fairy tales to today's dark desires,
there's a story to meet every sultry taste in this collection of
paranormal romance, menage and BDSM stories.

Blurb:

A jealous God keeps wicked Eve in a cage while a mountain monk guards
his chastity with similar restraints. Recovering vampires fall to
temptation when they find a cutter who claims to hold the cure. A
Gothic mesmerist meets his demons in a repressed patient's nightmares.
Twelve men fall to an enchantress’ curse while a sea creature drags an
Inuit woman beneath the ice. A husband keeps his thirst for blood secret
to protect his wife, and an office romance blossoms between an employee
and his succubus boss.

Warnings: This collection features graphic language and explicit sex
between monk and maiden, hypnotist and succubus, virgins, vampires,
monsters and men.

Contains: A Jealous God, Jungfrau, Blood Addict, The Mesmerist and the
Mare, Princess of the Ravens, Beneath the Ice, Simple, and Neither Love
Nor Money

Excerpt:

Did she turn him around or did he do that himself? He couldn’t
remember anymore. Somehow he ended up facing her. She tore off his tie
with one hand while she found his cock with the other. How did she
manage to zero in like that? Just wham! She had it in her fist,
stroking hard through the fabric of his trousers.

Max knew Detta wouldn’t be gentle. He’d seen the violence in her, right
from the start. She man-handled him, strong, tough, and she stood
nearly his height in those fuck-me heels.

She only let go of his cock to bind his wrists behind him—and with his
own tie, to boot. When she pressed him against the sideboard, he
worried he might ruin one of the catalogue mock-ups, but if she didn’t
care why should he? So he pressed his head against the glossy board
while Bernadetta tore open his shirt.

Buttons went flying, sailing to the floor in slow motion. Each
mother-of-pearl droplet settled like rain on the industrial carpet. He
was so mesmerized by the subtle shimmer that he almost didn’t notice
Detta ripping his belt from its loops. When she tossed it around her
shoulders, it morphed into a black snake. Were his eyes playing tricks
on him, or did his belt hiss while his boss opened his fly?

Max’s pants dropped to the floor with the weight of his wallet, his keys, and his merciless arousal.

And if you'd rather purchase your tales individually, a variety of paranormal erotic shorts are available from retailers like Barnes and Noble and All Romance ebooks! The series name is Paranormal Erotic Shorts.

All week I've been telling you about new paranormal ebooks. Today's title first appeared in the Cleis anthology Seductress, a collection of succubus stories. Mine's got a BDSM edge, and now you can grab it for $0.99:

Detta's employees like to spread vicious rumors about their
boss sleeping her way to the top. They don't know how right they are,
and neither does the Detta's new pet, Max, until she seduces him while
they're working late. She ties him up to show him just how much power a
succubus can wield over a man, but there's a hitch: Detta falls for
Max, so hard she can't conceive of stealing his essence. Without the
energy she needs, Detta fades fast. Will Max do what's necessary to
make her well again?

Warnings: This short story contains bondage, femdom, succubus sex,
and paranormal office romance. Appears in the anthology "Blood
Addict."

Word Count: 3,500

Excerpt:

Did she turn him around or did he do that himself? He couldn’t
remember anymore. Somehow he ended up facing her. She tore off his tie
with one hand while she found his cock with the other. How did she
manage to zero in like that? Just wham! She had it in her fist,
stroking hard through the fabric of his trousers.

Max knew Detta wouldn’t be gentle. He’d seen the violence in her,
right from the start. She man-handled him, strong, tough, and she stood
nearly his height in those fuck-me heels.

She only let go of his cock to bind his wrists behind him—and with
his own tie, to boot. When she pressed him against the sideboard, he
worried he might ruin one of the catalogue mock-ups, but if she didn’t
care why should he? So he pressed his head against the glossy board
while Bernadetta tore open his shirt.

Buttons went flying, sailing to the floor in slow motion. Each
mother-of-pearl droplet settled like rain on the industrial carpet. He
was so mesmerized by the subtle shimmer that he almost didn’t notice
Detta ripping his belt from its loops. When she tossed it around her
shoulders, it morphed into a black snake. Were his eyes playing tricks
on him, or did his belt hiss while his boss opened his fly?

Max’s pants dropped to the floor with the weight of his wallet, his keys, and his merciless arousal.

Beneath the Ice

Sea monster, Inuit legend, paranormal erotica

The sea monster Kaloopalooit lives in the cracks of ocean ice, devouring the children of the Arctic.

When Enooya bets her husband she's a better fisher than he
is, she sets off unperturbed to the fissures in the sea ice. After all,
the Kaloopalooit is just an imaginary monster the elders dreamed up to
scare kids.

Enooya discovers just how real the Kaloopalooit is when it
drags her into the icy water. The sea monster is beautiful and horrible,
shimmering and bizarre. In exchange for breath, it demands that Enooya
secure children for its dinner. Enooya has a better idea: Why not sample
the delicacy called woman?

Beneath the Ice is an erotic adaptation of an Inuit folktale. Appears in the anthology "Blood Addict."

Word Count: 5,300

Excerpt:

A creature burst from the giant hole, dreadful and beautiful. Its
glistening scales shone so brilliantly Enooya had to shield her eyes.
Its flesh glittered like fields of diamonds, gleaming with every shade
of the ocean. It was blue as the blue whale, green as algae, turquoise
as the southern coasts, and as silver as the Arctic char.

Before Enooya could make out anything beyond its dazzling colour, a
slick tail coiled around her ankles. Her knees knocked together with a
bony bang, sending streaks of pain down her legs. The coil tightened,
slithering up her thighs, around the corpulence of her ass, slippery and
smooth around her waist. She fell limp under the creature’s
stranglehold. Her eyes shut. Her head tilted to one side, too heavy to
hold upright.

The monstrous thing tugged so hard Enooya fell back with a thud. Her
shoulder blades smacked the sea ice, making her ribs rattle. Her skull
met the surface, and for a moment, everything went black.

Enooya didn’t struggle, even when the evil creature dragged her
feet-first into the frigid ocean. It tugged her body toward the
fissure, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to escape. It had her in
its power.

*** Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, and
contributor to more than 100 short story anthologies, including Best
Women’s Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bondage Erotica, and Best
Lesbian Romance. Ms Renarde has written dozens of juicy books, including
Anonymous, Ondine, and Nanny State. Her book The Red Satin Collection
won Best Transgender Romance in the 2012 Rainbow Awards. Giselle lives
across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

A little birdie told me you just can't get enough paranormal erotica... so here's more!

Princess of the Ravens

by Giselle Renarde

When a girl child is born to the king's new queen, his sons
must flee or face imminent death. After many years in hiding, Verity
tracks down her would-be brothers in a neighbouring kingdom. As gifts
for the twelve men, she plucks twelve enchanted lilies from a witch's
garden. Immediately, the men are turned to ravens. According to the
enchantress' spell, Verity must not make a sound for seven years or her
brothers will die.

At once, Verity is found by a prince, who takes her home for
his bride. His mother shows the young girl mercy by confining her to a
tower for seven years. In that time, the raven Benjamin visits her
daily. When they learn to communicate without words, Benjamin reveals a
secret that allows their love to blossom.

Will Verity escape the arrogant prince, or be forced to wed? How can a raven become her saviour?

Warnings: Princess of the Ravens is an erotic shapeshifter adaptation
of the Brothers Grimm fairy tale "Twelve Brothers." Appears in the
anthology "Blood Addict."

Word Count: 5,300

Excerpt:

Together, they counted down the days until Verity would be wed to the
prince for whom she held no affection. “It is you I love,” she told her
raven boy, in her way. “How can I marry another?”

“Leave it to me,” he sang, and she smiled. She knew she could trust
him, just as she knew he saw every delectable imagining that entered her
mind. In that moment, she caught herself recollecting that this was
the day of her birth, and she was now a woman in every sense. As soon
as the thought struck her, she knew she had conveyed it to Benjamin, and
they both fell more silent than they had ever been with one another.

“Where do you go in the night?” she asked him, in silence. “What do you do when you are not at my side?”

“In the night…” he crowed. “In the night, I am transformed. In the night, I am a man.”

Verity’s heart froze in her chest. She recognized well the urges in
her own body, and she could only imagine how it must be for Benjamin.
He was, after all, a “brutish man” as the waiting maids called them, and
he was older, as well. Must she dwell on the ideas of what he did in
the night? With other women?
***

When
Salome's mother marries Rod, Plain-Jane Sally falls head over heels for his
son. They're only step-siblings, but John still thinks it would be wrong if
they surrendered to temptation.

Right or
wrong, Salome's got her sights set on her new step-brother, and she won't take
no for an answer.

Rod isn't
happy that his twenty-three-year-old son still lives in his basement. Now he's
got a barely-legal step-daughter to support as well.Worse yet, his new wife is forcing him to
attend the girl's goddamn dance recital!

Onstage,
the gangly teen transforms into a seductive stripper.In a sexy little dance costume, Sally becomes
the most seductive vixen Rod has ever seen.There's no turning back.He's
going to bed his step-daughter if it kills him...

Dia gazed at him
in the dressing table mirror.Her
expression faded to disappointment.“Rod, she’s my daughter.What’s
mine is yours.”

“Yeah, I
know.”That kid was bound to cramp their
style.They only just got married, and
within a week he was being dragged to a goddamn dance recital?Rod stared unapologetically at his wife’s
incredible cleavage.“Jeeze Louise, you got great tits.”

Dia rolled her
eyes as she clipped on earrings.“No
sense changing the subject.You’re still
coming to Sally’s recital.”

“Sure you don’t
want to stay home instead?We can have a
little dance recital of our own.”

Circling his
arms around her body, he dug her tits out of her dress.When he squeezed those sweet melons, his dick
stood at attention.He stroked it
against her ass, and she obviously felt it because her eyes rolled back in her
head.God, those tits!He bounced them on his palms and her flesh
jiggled.He nipped her neck, and she
moaned.

“So…?”

“Rod…”Dia sounded tortured, and he knew she’d
reached a tipping point.But she tipped
in the wrong direction, smacking him away.“Rod, enough!”

“Aww, come
on.”He pulled up her skirt, but, shit,
she had a slip on too.“Just a quickie,
since I’m in the mood?”

She kicked him
in the shin.“Not now.”

“Fuck, Dia, you
didn’t have to get all physical.”

“Neither did
you.”She glared at him in the
mirror.After a long moment, a smile lit
up her face.“I’m not rejecting you,
Rod, we just don’t have time.Wait until
tonight.I’m gonna rock your world.”

“Not if I rock
yours first.”He ran his hands up and
down the silky fabric of her dress.Felt
so good to have a wife again.The worst
thing in the world was going to bed at night and not smelling a woman’s hair on
his pillow.“I love you, Dia.”

“Aww, baby, I
love you too.”She turned her head and
planted a sweet kiss on his lips.“Hey,
would you help me with this clasp?”

“These damn
things are too fiddly for my fingers.”He tried anyway, securing her necklace with surgical precision.“And I don’t want you thinking I don’t care
about your little girl.Just, I’ve raised
a daughter already.I’ve seen about all
the ballet recitals one man can handle.”

“Don’t worry,
dear, it’s not ballet.”Dia handed him a
bracelet to put on next.“I can’t stand
all that fussy stuff either.”

* *
* *

Rod shifted in
his wooden seat.Why were the chairs in
these auditoriums so damn small?His
knee kept touching John’s.Turning to
Dia, he asked, “When do we get this show on the road?”

“Five more
minutes, Mr. Impatient.”

“I don’t see
your kid’s name in this here program.”He held it between them.“Did
they miss her?”

“It’s right
there,” Dia said, pointing to a name near the top.

“Salome?That’s her name?And I been calling her Sally all this
time...”

“Sure, Sally for
short.”Dia chuckled to herself.“My mother said she’d disown me if I didn’t
give my child a biblical name.It’s a
wonder she didn’t disown me for having a child out of wedlock.Sometimes people surprise you.”

“Hmm.”Rod didn’t like thinking of his wife fucking
other guys.Made him want to toss his
cookies.But, hell, that would have been
eighteen, nineteen years ago.

Dia started
talking to the lady on her other side, and John stuck his nose in a book, as
usual.Rod felt claustrophobic, trapped
between them.All these people, all
these chairs.What if there was a fire?

He gazed at his
step-daughter’s name in the program.Kid
didn’t look like a Salome.Salome was a
sexy name, a stripper name. Girls, Girls,
Girls!Curves, Curves, Curves!Salome wasn’t a name for a twiggy stick bug
with gangly hair and pimples.Dia’s kid
weren’t nothin’ to look at.

When the lights
went down, Rod’s heart raced.Music
seemed to rise out of the floor, and a whole bunch of dancers hit the
stage.It sure wasn’t no ballet they
were doing.This was new stuff, Disco,
all the rage.They pointed and
strutted.Guys in suits fucked the
air.Girls got brazen under the mirror
ball.

Stupid dance
shit.

Rod looked for
Dia’s kid, but didn’t see her.Maybe the
girl wasn’t in this number.He tried to
divert his mind to something else.How
long until this goddamn show was over?

He slid his hand
up Dia’s thigh, but she smacked it away.

Maybe he could
play a game—a game called If I Could Only
Fuck One Dancer, Who Would It Be?

None of them
girls with the short hair.Nah, they looked
too much like guys.He wanted a girl
like Dia, with wide hips and nice tits, but none of these dancers looked like
that.A few leggy blondes caught his
eye.Hell, what man could resist a leggy
blonde?And he wouldn’t mind riding the
chick with the ‘fro—she had a butt that wouldn’t quit.

But if he could
only pick one out of the entire crowd?Well, he’d go with the girl in that sparkling silver dress.She’d be down with it, for sure.Any woman in a dress that short was
guaranteed to be a floozy.Every time
she kicked, he got a peek at her panties, and they were silver too.A girl like that was just begging for it.

As he watched
her slim hips gyrate, his cock filled his pants.He squirmed in his seat, because the seam was
cutting into him, but his squirming drew Dia’s evil eye.Sitting still, he covered his crotch
nonchalantly with his programs and tried to adjust himself.

When the number
ended, the auditorium burst into over-eager applause.Family and friends were always too
generous.The dancing hadn’t been that great.

Dia leaned in
close and asked, “Wasn’t Sally stunning?”

“Oh, sure.”No way he was about to admit he couldn’t pick
his own step-daughter out of a crowd.

Rod hadn’t
noticed that his son wasn’t clapping.Kid’s arms were crossed over his chest and, without looking at Dia, he
snapped, “I’m fine.”

Strange
behaviour, for John.He usually went in
for this artsy bullshit.

Dance numbers
came and went, but they didn’t capture Rod’s imagination.He kept watching for the girl in the silver
dress.Even with his beautiful wife at
his side, he found himself craving young pussy.Craving the girl with the silver panties.

And there she
was!

When the lights
came up on a sexy scene, Rod did a double take.Was that girl naked?No, couldn’t
be… couldn’t be… but the silver dress was gone.And the silver panties.

Two dancers
kneeled together on heaps of velvet pillows, offset by barely and arm’s
length.The sexy mama with the ‘fro was
on her knees, just a touch behind the sweet thing with the long, dark hair.

What were they
wearing?If only he’d brought
binoculars.Were those flesh-toned
bikinis?Yeah, mesh string bikinis with
sparkly rhinestones, which caught the light as the girls gyrated in unison.

This wasn’t like
any dance Rod had ever seen.He didn’t
know what you’d call it.Modern,
maybe?Seemed better suited to a strip
club than a dance hall, and the music was straight out of a porno film.He didn’t feel exactly comfortable watching
this show of rippling flesh with his new wife at one side and his son at the
other, but he couldn’t take his eyes off that dancer.

As it turned
out, John was even more uncomfortable than Rod, because he stormed from his
seat, stepping over eight sets of knees to get out the aisle.Normally, Rod would have followed his son—any
excuse to get out of a dance recital!—but he remained transfixed.

Dia was just the
same.She didn’t even seem to notice
that John had left in a huff.

The girls on
stage waved their hands over their heads, snapping their fingers, smiling
coquettishly at the audience, and at each other.Their hips circled around.Their bare bellies waved like the ocean.Up and down, like they were each straddling a
lover, like they were fucking invisible men right there on stage.Their motions were lewd, pornographic. Rod
couldn’t look away.

Stage lights
picked up body glitter on their chests and thighs when they launched into a
modified mash-potato, like they were beating their invisible lovers with their
fists.What Rod wouldn’t give to get
under those girls!His cock strained so
hard against his pants he worried his erection would tear out his fly.He could just imagine his insistent dick
ripping through the seams, expanding unbound until it filled the entire
auditorium.That’s how huge he felt,
watching those girls dance.

Dance—if you’d call it
that.

He couldn’t
stand the sheer physical pressure.His
cock had grown into a Thanksgiving belly, threatening to rupture if he didn’t
unbuckle his belt.

As the girl with
the ‘fro traced her long fingers across the other dancer’s glittering skin, Rod
unzipped his fly.His desperate cock
flew out, whacking the program that served as a shield.He glanced over his shoulder, trying to be
subtle, but everyone in the theatre watched slack-jawed as the two girls turned
and touched.

The dancers
mirrored each other, stretching their arms over their heads as they wagged
their pert asses.Rod’s precum soaked
the program.His body, mind, and spirit
lived inside his dick.

Wrapping his
fist around his shaft, he imagined it was the girl on stage.The girl with the long, dark hair.Those were her little fingers clinging to his dick.Maybe she’d circle both hands around it and
pump with all her might.She’d look at
his raging erection like she’d never seen anything so huge in all her life.

He’d pull her
body down on his.She’d shriek wildly as
he filled her wet cunt with his massive shaft.He could just imagine how tight she’d be.Her sweet young pussy would wrap around him
like a warm hug.

Rod squeezed
harder, pretending his fist was the dancer’s pussy.He watched her writhe against the other
girl.The way the stage lights struck
them, he was pretty sure he could see their erect nipples through the glittering
mesh bikinis.Their bodies rippled.They drew closer and closer together, until
pink tits touched dark ones.Their small
breasts teased him beyond sensation.He
couldn’t bear much more of this.

And then the two
girls bobbed their heads forward, like they were about to kiss, and Rod’s
thighs trembled against the hard wooden seat.Just as their pretty pink lips were about to touch, they swooped their
heads to either side.Hooking their
chins around each other’s shoulders, they raised their backs and then their
arms, like birds in flight.

Damn, they were
gorgeous.

Could he stroke
off without arousing suspicion?The
program concealed his cock.He could
feel the smoothness of the paper against his engorged tip.Maybe if he beat off slow and hard he’d make
it to the finish line without Dia noticing.She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the dancers any more than he
could.

No more fooling
around.He circled his thumb and
forefinger around his slick head and teased it.His hand was a pussy—that little vixen’s pussy—and he was gonna punish
it so hard she’d walk funny for a week.

As the girls
touched and teased, playing nipples off nipples, Rod fuelled his orgasm with
friction.He fucked his hand, or his
hand fucked him, until his balls clenched.He felt warm all over.His throat
closed up.As those two agile dancers
collapsed in a heap of velvet cushions, hot jizz filled his program.

The lights went
down as the awestruck audience broke madly into applause.Thank god for the darkness, because Dia
certainly would have recognized Rod’s orgasm face if she’d seen him in that
moment.

By the time the
lights came up on the next number, he’d regained a certain amount of composure
and zipped his spent cock back into his trousers.

He was about to
lean in and tell Dia, “I can’t wait to get you home,” when she spoke to him,
instead.

“Wasn’t Sally
spellbinding?”

“Huh?” Rod
glared at the stage, but the disco dancers all had short hair.Sally wasn’t up there.“Where?When?”

Dia cocked her
head, like she didn’t understand him.“In that last routine…”